The Wanters Creed
by Dyeh
Summary: JD is notorious for wanting things he can't have. JD x Cox. Slash. R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Scrubs. **

Welcome to my first ever Scrubs story, _The Wanters Creed_. Yep, I understand there should be a ' in Wanters, but meh. It looked funky. Anywho, I've been a huge Scrubs fan for a while now, and I figured that it was time that I started writing it. Having dwelled in the anime section for years, I hope that my unorthidox way of writing doesn't put anybody off or what not, I also hope that the narration makes sense. I read it through a few times, and it did to me, but you know, I am insane, so like, yeah.

Anywho, enjoy the first chapter and I'll be back with more later. Kthxbye.

--Dyeh

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**  
The Wanters Creed**  
_A JD x Cox Story_

**--Chapter One--  
**

_I, John Dorian, am a man of many problems. For one, I've never been able to hold down a steady relationship, with, well, anybody. I have a bad habit of looking like somebody from the gay community, and I fear commitment. However, my greatest unwanted personality trait is the fact that I want what I can't have._

_Take Carla's muffin for instance. Right now, Carla is eating the muffin that Turk got her from Starbucks for Breakfast as she's been working double shifts. Now, all it takes for me to desperately want that muffin is the words;_

"No, Bambi, this is my muffin." Carla glowered, holding the Blueburry muffin in one hand and picking at it with the other.

My eyes lit up at once, focused solely on the muffin that I wanted but couldn't have, because it was Carla's muffin. And I couldn't take Carla's muffin away from her... or could I? No! No I couldn't!

_See? I now want Carla's muffin for the simple reason that she has it, and has told me that I can't have it. I don't even like blueberries, dammnit! What in the hell is wrong with me?_

_Today was a slow day. Maybe that's why I'm brooding over my main, personality issue. In fact, as of – I glanced down at my watch –__ now, I'm officially off call. I should probably go home, put my feet up, watch some TV..._

I felt a sharp tap on my shoulder. This tap was immediately followed by a thumping of a patient's chart on my head, and the words; "Come'n Sandra. We have to see Mrs Jones."

Out of instinct, I whirled around and followed Dr Cox to wherever Mrs Jones' room was – she wasn't even my patient, dammnit! – and tried to explain bluntly to Dr Cox that I was off duty in the most sophisticated language that I got off duty three and a half minutes ago.

"Actually, Dr Cox, as of three and a half minutes ago I'm off duty---"

"And I care, why?" Came the curt reply, immediately, without missing a heartbeat. "Look, Newbie, I don't really _care_ if you're officially off duty four and a half minutes ago-"

"Three and a half," I butted in, correcting him.

"-Whatever. The point is; I don't _care_. You were standing around, so, I pretty much figured that you'd just jump to the occasion to help Mrs Jones to, I don't know, come into consciousness? I understand if you have manicures or beauty salons to go to, I do, but gosh darn it I figured people could use you here more."

"But, Dr Cox, that doesn't seem fair—"

A sharp whistle interrupted me. "Here's the thing, Paula, life is _never_, _ev-eee-er_ fair."

_God, what is his deal? I mean, seriously, I should be able to go home! That's right. I just have to go out of that door—_

"Jessica, if you leave this room, I'm going to have hurt you."

I paused in mid tip-toed step, and turned my head back around to look at Dr Cox, whom was looking rather annoyed and expectant. Maybe it was best if I stayed put...

_I mean, what _is_ his deal, anyway? What is this, a prison? No... wait... if it was a prision then I'd be getting bum raped all over the place. ... Ow. Being bum raped sounds painful. Bum rape. Bum rape. Bum rape. Bum ra- What am I, some weirdo who likes inflicting pain on himself? EW! Then again, prison inmates do always go around in pairs... teams of sorts. I wonder if Turk and I could be a team. We'd be an awesome team..._

_Wait, that's it!_

"Ooooh, I see now!" I said happily, using bold hand gestures and interrupting the comfortable silence that sometimes – very rarely – came between Dr Cox and I.

"You get, what, Tiffany?" Dr Cox asked, sounding completely uninterested, as he checked Mrs Jones' IV.

"You like the whole team thing going too! I knew you did! Because, like, why else would you invite me in here? It's so obvious! I knew that you liked me t-"

"Stop right there, Glenda." Dr Cox butted in, "I do _not_ like you. Not, not, not, _nooot_ like you. In any way or form. Full stop. In fact, you're nothing but an annoyance, but you know what, I figured that today you might _learn something new_ from this patient who has been in a coma for _almost four years_. I don't know what kind of disgusting fantasies you were dreaming up in that soccer ball head of yours, Helen, but let's get one thing straight; I do _nooot_ like you. Full stop. Have fun with your little school-girl crush, Valerie, but I am _nooot_ taking you to the prom, oh-kay?"

"Well... I didn't mean it like that..." I said, feeling rather foolish. He took the piss out of me so often that I'm pretty sure I should be used to it by now, but, evidentially, I'm still feel a little bit silly when he rants... and when he calls me girls names..

"How about, _not finished_? Anyway, Newbie, as much as you may have girly crush-like dreams about me at night, you will _never_ hit this."

I stared into the flashing, angry eyes of Dr Cox. He was mad, granted, but there was just something about him. Something appealing... My eyes widened considerably as I realised just what that thing was.

_Oh Christ, no!_

**To Be Continued**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Scrubs. **

Sorry for the obnoxiously slow update (5 months! Dear god, I'm terrible!). Writers block is a bitch, seriously. This fanfiction really doesn't have a plot, either, I'm just going to write and see where it takes me.

Soyeah. Enjoy, and as always, please read and review. I'll try my hardest to update quicker next time.**  
**

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**--Chapter Two--**

_After the uncomfortable situation in Mrs Jones' room with Dr Cox, I felt it was quite necessary to go home, put my feet up, and relax._

_Unfortunately, Turk was misinformed three days ago (by Todd) that playing Britney Spear's albums loudly will quell his nerves and prepare him for his battles ahead. That therefore explains why I currently have two earplugs fastened securely and – perhaps a bit too – tightly in my ears._

I yawned, flicking on the old video box and hit the on button of the DVD player with my foot, eager to watch (subtitled, as Turk was still playing his obnoxiously loud pop music) season five, episode three of _House_. Usually I dislike dramas, but the House character is strangely intriguing – that is, he reminds me of someone in particular, but I haven't quite figured out whom – and the Australian actor has a funny accent. Turk, on the other hand, loves House, and when he saw me watching the DVD when he walked out of the bathroom, he jumped over the couch with an; "Ooooo! _House_! That guy is a whole lot of crazy.", turned his music off, and sat next to me.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I intended on removing the earplugs from my ears, only to discover that I'd put them in just a little too well. I watched Turk's moving mouth, hearing nothing, and groaned.

_Oh great._

* * *

_You'd think that being a doctor employed at Sacred Heart Hospital, you'd get some kind of health benefit when you so happened to feel ill. Unfortunately, this was not so, as Dr Kelso found that, more often than not, doctors did get sick, and if he was lucky he'd be able to pawn money from them. So no benefits for me._

_Therefore, after waiting for two hours – despite my doctor status – at in emergency, one of the on call doctors finally had a chance to look at my ears._

"Yep. Patricia, looks as though you've punctured both your ear drums." Dr Cox said with a patronizing sigh, shoving an otoscope into my right ear.

_Eh? What did he just say?_

"I'M SORRY I CAN'T HEAR YOU." I shouted in reply dumbly. I felt very foolish, sitting here, letting Dr Cox look into all of my orifices…

_Orifices is a funny word…_

… or, rather, the two orifices that made up my two ears. Not to mention he actually had me sitting on one of the cold emergency stretchers that are so cold that they freeze your buttocks through even the thickest pants. Luckily the stretcher was as cold as it was; Dr Cox was literally breathing down my neck and the heat of that in the coldness of the room was making my brain go a little fuzzy.

_Dear god, what is WRONG with me!?_

Dr Cox groaned, "Nurse, a piece of paper and a pen, please?"

Evidentially, Dr Cox was having a good night, because he wrote in scrawling capital letters; "HE WHO CAN'T HEAR CAN'T SPEAK." With a wide grin on his face, paused for a moment, and continued; "MAYBE SOMEBODY CAN TEACH YOU SIGN LANGUAGE, JANA."

I groaned. The only person who knew sign language in this stupid hospital was the Janitor, and I wasn't about to go and ask him for help. No way, no how.

In any case, Dr Cox grabbed another sheet of paper from the nurse and wrote for what seemed like a minute. When he held it up it read; "IT WILL HEAL WITH TIME. THAT MEANS NO SPEAKING UNTIL THEN."

_He's decorated it with balloons and other celebratory items. How sweet._

I smiled ruefully.

* * *

_Not being able to hear and being friends with Turk are two things that don't really go hand in hand. Turk __likes__ to talk to people; he likes to be able to have a __conversation__, which means speaking. Therefore, writing everything down for me annoyed him greatly._

_So, we'd devised a secret code; our own little language, which consisted of hand movements. Thumbs up meant "yes", thumbs down meant "no", two fingers up meant "change the channel", three fingers up meant "I like that" and of course, four fingers plus thumb of our right hand meant "Carla's PMSing so watch out."_

Three days into being deaf, I yawned, practicing the hand signals that Turk and I had devised on my two seater couch. I was blatantly ignoring the TV (that I had "Closed Captioned"), and was dressed in my always fashionable onsies pyjamas. I'd had to take sick leave from work, considering I couldn't hear anything, and I never went anywhere without a (pink) notebook that Elliot had so kindly brought me with a frilly (also pink) pen to with it.

_Mmm. Frilly Pink…_

Secretly, I really liked them. But, unfortunately, all of this alone time in my brain just gave me time to ponder over my little "Dr Cox" issue.

_God, what is this feeling?__ Whenever I think about Dr Percival Cox, I have this strange warm sensation in my belly – oooooh, there it goes – and my head got a little clouded. It's weird! It's almost like a – excuse the expression – high school crush!_

_Wait, crush? I do not have a crush on Dr Cox. I mean, come on, for starters he's a __man__ and I'm, also, a __man_

I twiddled my fingers together.

_What could have caused this? Seriously. This isn't cool. I know I always want things I can't have – like Elliot – but Dr Cox? Just because he said, "you will never hit this"?_

… _I want to hit that. WAIT NO I DON'T! God! JD, grow up! You are a MAN who likes WOMEN. How the HELL am I going to fix this problem?_

**To Be Continued**


End file.
